


Giving Thanks

by killerweasel



Category: Good Omens (TV Series)
Genre: Cooking, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: Crowley just needs to cook a turkey. How difficult could it be?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	Giving Thanks

Title: Giving Thanks  
Fandom: Good Omens (TV Series)  
Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley  
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley  
Word Count: 910  
Rating: G  
A/N: After Episode 6.  
Summary: Crowley just needs to cook a turkey. How difficult could it be?

"It's Thanksgiving in America."

Crowley sat up, rubbing his face with his hand. "What's your point, angel? We're not in America. The whole Thanksgiving thing is problematic anyway."

Aziraphale sighed. "I would like a roast turkey for dinner. I bought one at the shop the other day. It's been thawing in the refrigerator."

"Again, what's your point?"

"I thought you could make it for me. I don't really want to touch all those... bits to clean it." He made a face. "There's innards and gibblets and necks and things."

"Probably only one neck, unless you bought a mutant bird." Crowley laughed.

"Oh, hush." He gave Crowley a look. "If you can clean and cook the turkey, without using any miracles, I will do that other thing you requested back on Valentine's Day."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?" He'd pull the guts out of a dozen turkeys for that.

"Indeed." Aziraphale wiggled on the couch. "The pan is by the stove. There are directions on the turkey's package. Have at it, my dear boy." The angel snapped his fingers and the book he'd been reading appeared on his lap. "Good luck."

Crowley made a rude noise. It was just a turkey. How difficult could it be? He pulled the package out of the refrigerator, setting the turkey into the sink. He prodded it with a finger. It certainly didn't feel thawed out. He poked it again and could feel the ice shifting around.

He knew better than to try and thaw it with warm water. Crowley turned on the cold water, sliced the package open, and dumped the semi-frozen bird out with a soft thud. He waited for the water to melt some of the ice before trying to put his fingers inside. Whatever he was touching felt gross and he now understood why Aziraphale had left this task to him.

Crowley shipped away at the ice with a spoon, making a hole large enough to put part of his hand inside. He made a disgusted face as a slurping sound came from the bird. He wiggled bits of ice free, gradually increasing the size of the hole. "Stupid turkey." Crowley pulled more pieces of ice out before going to work on the grosser bits. He thought he was doing a pretty decent job until he slid his hand in and a chunk of bone went into his finger.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" Crowley hopped around the kitchen, clutching his hand. "What the heaven was that?" He peered at his fingertip, saw his blood mixed with that of the turkey, and gasped in horror. "It stabbed me. I'm _bleeding_!"

He leaned back towards the doorway. Aziraphale was continuing to read the book in his lap and was ignoring Crowley completely. Crowley scowled. "Angel, I am wounded."

"That's nice, dear."

Muttering under his breath, Crowley rinsed his finger off with some soap and then held a cloth on it until the bleeding stopped. He was severely tempted to just miracle the turkey fully cooked. With a dramatic sigh, he went back to chipping the ice out of the inside of the turkey and occasionally pulling out bits that he didn't want to think too much about.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the turkey was ready to go into the pan. Crowley went to put it in the oven, only to have it bump against the top of the inside of the stove. He tried again and got the same result. Swearing loudly, he turned to set the turkey back by the sink, missed the counter, and everything clattered onto the floor. The turkey slid over the tiles, across the kitchen, and ended up against the refrigerator. "Lucifer's big hairy balls!"

"What was that?"

"Nothing. It was nothing. Keep reading." He glanced back at the turkey before focusing on the oven again. It took a couple of tries, but he finally managed to lower the oven rack. Then he rinsed the turkey off, put it back into the pan, set the timer, and put the bird in the oven.

As soon as the oven door was closed, Crowley felt absolutely exhausted. How did humans do these things all the time? He looked at the floor. There was a trail of turkey bits and whatnot going from where it had landed to where it finally stopped. "Great." Again he debated on using a miracle and decided against it. He could clean up his own stupid mess.

Once the floor was freshly clean, Crowley sprawled himself in one of the kitchen chairs. He felt like a dishcloth which had been wrung out one too many times. His eyes drifted closed for a moment until he remembered what the sink looked like. He couldn't just leave it like that, it was some sort of health hazard. Plus, it looked disgusting.

He forced himself upright. Crowley carefully cleaned the sink, tossing any bits of turkey into the bin. By the time he was finished, everything was sparkling. He washed his hands, grabbed a bottle of wine from the refrigerator, and drank half of it straight from the bottle.

"Your turkey is cooking, angel. I'm going to take a nap." Crowley had almost made it to the bedroom when Aziraphale's voice reached his ears.

"Well, I was going to join you, but if you're too tired, I guess your gift can wait until..."

"Get in here, angel. And bring the whipped cream."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second year in a row I've stabbed myself on a turkey and decided it would work for part of a fic.


End file.
